


See you, Space Cowboy

by BoxWineConfessions



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cowboy Bebop AU, Espionage, F/M, Galra Keith (Voltron), Kidge Week 2016, bounty hunter AU, double agent keith, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: Pidge is an ex Garrison officer, former childhood genius, and one time computer science prodigy. In the present, she's a reckless and washed up bounty hunter who doesn't let go of a bounty once she sinks her teeth in.
Her current mission? Keith Kogane, wanted by both Garrison and Galra forces for the murder of officers. Current intelligence suggests that he has a shitty haircut, and the uncanny ability to hit major arteries with his knife. 
It doesn't matter though. Pidge is bound and determined to bring him in.





	

Pidge taps her foot against the perforated metal scaffolding on which she stands. Through the holes in the flooring she can see the purple blue neon lights pulsating from the club below. She can also see the flux of bodies shift backwards and forwards from the dance floor to the as primitive blobs. As soon as she catches herself in the nervous habit she stops. It’s a rookie move, and she’s had years now to have all the nervous tics pummeled out of her in training, and actual missions. 

 

But. 

 

She hasn’t gotten the signal yet. 

 

And Hunk and Lance have missed the time mark by...She checks the timer embedded into her sleeve discreetly. 87 kliks. Late enough to be concerned, not late enough to go to the alternative actions. 

 

Unceremoniously, she presses up against the railing and digs the shiny polyester like material from between her ass cheeks. Lance fucking loved going under cover, and considering the insanity of her current get up, she would’ve done anything to trade spots and not be the one out in the field. But SOMEBODY had to get drunk and get himself and his banned from the joint years ago during his days as an officer and ruined all possibility of that. 

 

“Pidgey,” Lance says over the comm. She can tell that he’s trying to inflect the same buttery smoothness into the statement that he does with everything else, but she can also hear the tinges of exhaustion in his voice, panting and breaths between syllables that aren’t usually there. He’s  _ trying _ to be funny though, which mean the plan hasn’t been shot to shit yet. “We have visual confirmation. Proceed to win the target over with your unimaginable charm.” 

 

Before her name is off his mouth she’s spotted him. Across the club, he parts the crowd on an opposite railing. The Plambian punks they’d bought info off of weren’t lying when they said he had a shitty haircut. Reminds her of going into town back when she was in the Garrison and bought computer parts from old men who hadn’t changed their honky tonk haircuts since 1979. 

 

If he didn’t wear a look of brazen confidence like he owned the joint, he’d seem out of place. He was the only person she’d seen thus far who wasn’t wearing ridiculous and iridescent club attire. He’s got on military issue body armor, but he’s smart enough to have ditched the uniform with Galra markings. 

 

She ducks and weaves in and out of the crowd all the while trying to look inconspicuous. Easier said than done, she failed five out of six Garrison espionage modules, and only got through due to her combined coding and encryption scores. Dad used to always laugh and say that him and mom should’ve named her Grace. 

 

How can she be anything but graceful when there’s a pounding bassline in her head, hammering away at her skull and making her ears numb with indifference? 

 

She pulls the green arrow shaped blade from within a hidden pocket in her ridiculous disguise. She has no idea what it is or what it does, other than it made for a pretty decent consolation prize for the botched capture of a smuggler that terrorized the Orion asteroid belt. She didn’t exactly believe in luck, but it was the closest thing to a good luck charm she’d ever have. Thugs three times her size went down when she whipped this out. 

 

She makes it to his side of the club, he ducks on to the balcony. Then, there’s lazer fire on her. She ducks behind tables. 

 

The shots cause patrons to run and scream and in the chaos she’s able to jump behind the bar and swing the blade outward and lasso him in. 

 

“You and your friends are a real pain in the ass.” 

 

“Only to those with big bounties on their heads.” She spits as she tries to go for the stasis cuffs. He’s small, but he’s a wily bastard who won’t stop tugging at the restraint. 

 

Finally she manages to get the cuffs out, slaps one on his left wrist, and moves to his right before she feels a stinging sensation in her arm. 

 

_ Tranquilizer. _

 

And she’s out cold on the patio collapsed into a puddle of spilled drinks. 

 

She wakes up to the sight of the blue lion hovering over her. The patio is desolate now due to there being an active shooter and all. 

 

“Pidge!” Lance’s voice is high pitched and furious over the comm. “How the hell did you lose him?”

 

“How the hell did YOU lose him,” She chokes out as she pulls her body into an undignified seated position. She smells like liquor and smoke and the stench makes her want to vomit. Or maybe it’s an after effect of the drugs. Everything still feels like it’s in slow motion, and the headache from the drum and bass is amplified by the tranq. 

 

“Because he stole a random cruizer and we had no idea it was him until it was too late,” Hunk confesses over the comm. 

 

“What kind? We can still get him,” she says in between dry heaves. The drugs are strong, but they’re broke and Kogane has a very high price on his head. 

 

“Ah, well you see Pidge that’s where it gets really interesting. Part of the reason we didn’t know it was him was because it was a vintage model, Starfish.” 

 

She can feel her eyebrows migrating into her hairline. No fucking way. 

 

“And we assumed maybe you’d apprehended, or were going into pursuit. Either way, he’s really fast.” She can hear the fear rise up in Hunks voice. He ought to be afraid. The whole goddamn universe ought to be afraid if that bastard stole  _ her _ ship. 

  
It’s personal now. 

* * *

“Pidgeon I think you’ve had enough,” Lance tries to edge the glass of murky purple liquid away from her and she hisses in response. 

“That’s rich,” she responds and downs the rest of the glass. “Coming from you of all people.” It’s very clear that at this point their recon and info gathering attempt is foiled all to shit anyway. The bar is dead, and so is the one up the block, and the one across the street. Sure, there are asses in seats and the liquor flows freely, but there’s not a single wanted man among them. 

After her little shoot em’ up incident with Kogane, they’d gone to the Xu system….and by the time they’d gotten out of hyperspace, and received permission to dock he’d already blown up one Garrison compound and then robbed a Galra outpost on his way out of the system. 

Through the pink smoke and soft electro-lute tunes from the stage, it’s easy to tell that the place is crawling with bounty hunters, both Garrison and Galra. The place is good for little else other than a bar fight between pissy hired guns. 

The bartender gives her another without even asking. It’s clear that he finds it funny, maybe even cute how she’s getting progressively drunker and drunker and wailing on Lance all the while. She’ll fucking show him cute. 

Upon docking, they’d parked next to the totally destroyed Starfish. In messy scrawl keyed into the ruined green paint. “Thanks Pidgey.” 

“I can’t wait to deck that bastard once we catch him.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Hunk supplies from her right. 

If he suggests going after another bounty she’s going to scream. There’s a reason they left their positions as officers and pursued bounties instead. Less pay sure, but also less red tape. They could do whatever the hell they wanted, and right now she wanted that bastard in cuffs. 

“I know that once you bite you don’t let go Pidge, but we’ve gotta haul somebody in and get some money. Like soon.” 

“You and Lance can take care of that.” 

“You’re on the cusp of being reckless Pidgey.” Lance leans forward on the barstool and taps against her nose. 

“I don’t give a damn!” Her voice carries over the sound of the smooth tunes at the stage, and pierces through the chatter. She raises up off the stool with a wobble that she hopes goes unnoticed, and then slams her fists down on the fluorescent bar. “I am a badge wielding Garrison bounty hunter,” 

“Oh my god Pidge stop talking,” Hunk is already drawing his weapon. There is, kind of an intergalactic war going on between the two sides. Everybody knows that the place is swimming with Galra and Garrison, but they’re also tired and pissed off that they can’t find Kogane. If they don’t talk about it, everyone can drink in peace.

“And I’m the one who's bringing in Kogane. Not you,” she points at a Roestian that’s twice as wide as she is tall. “Or you,” she points at a table of heavily armored thugs. “Or you,” she points openly at off duty Galra officers. 

Immediately Hunk’s arm is wrapped around the middle and they’re booking it out of the bar. 

  
“Silver lining though,” Lance says in-between pants as they run down the old cobbled streets. “We totally skipped out on a 150 credit tab. So we’re up by that much. And, this has officially bought me so much fuck-up credit. I can botch life six missions now and Pidge can’t say anything because of this.” 

* * *

“Oh my god I am too hungover for this,” she barks into the comm. They’re still in the Xu system, but they’ve moved to a trading post. Low hanging fruit. Smugglers, tax evaders, illegal entry without permission to board planetside. Maybe enough to re-up their oxygen canisters and get something to eat that’s not goo rations. 

“Pidge with all due respect.” Lance leers into the comm. “Shut up. You owe us big-time. Now, get to the drop point.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” A drug sting. What is this, her rookie days? “I gotta go dry heave a little first. I’ve got time.” 

“You’re the worst.” 

She mutes the comm as she waits in line for the public toilet. A trading post that saw 300,000 souls daily, and they were limited to single use toilets. Genius engineering. Simply brilliant. 

She hears the flush, and then a, “Sorry,” as the restroom’s former occupant brushes back her shoulder and…

Holy shit. She’d recognize that mullet anywhere. 

“Goddamnit,” he sighs before he breaks into a run. 

“I agree whole heartedly,” she yells after him. Dodging and weaving between busy mercantile streets would be a chore if her head weren’t addled by last night’s booze ridden tirade. Now, it seems almost impossible. 

Keith tries to knock over baskets of goods, push people in her path, but she’s driven by pure anger and petty revenge. Nothing, absolutely nothing is going to stop her. She shoots the bayard and it attaches firmly to a lamppost some eighty feet away. Then, she flips the switch which causes the device to retract. Unceremoniously she drags herself through the crowd and she catches up so she’s side by side. 

“Keith.” 

He turns to look at her, but doesn’t break stride. 

  
She jumps off of her impromptu zip line in front of him and decks him in the face. She’s going to dream about the perfection of that punch for months. 

* * *

“You have twenty minutes for whatever interrogation nonsense you wanna pull Pidge, and then we’re calling ISSP. If you kill him, you’re dead.” 

“Not a chance Hunk. Garrison’s doubled their bounty, and my peanut butter supply is low. I need the money.”

“You’ll be lucky if we can afford goo at this rate. You broke 17,000 GAC worth of crystal in the market today Pidge.” 

Oh, so that’s what that crashing noise was.

They’re not officially Garrison officers anymore, so they don’t have a fancy interrogation room on the ship or something. They’ve settled for stasis cuffing him to a chair and tossing him in the pantry. He’s developing a beautiful purple red black shiner on his right eye, and Pidge can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the sight. Take that. Bastard. 

“Look if you’re gonna play cop and like, interrogate me, can you do it quietly I’m too hungover for this shit.” 

Immediately the scowl melts from Pidge’s face. At least they’re finally on even footing, because she didn’t know if she was gonna be able to keep up the tough guy act. Considering her head was  _ still _ pounding, and probably had been since the night he tranquilized her in the club. “Oh thank god.” 

“Tie one on last night too huh?” She expected him to be nothing but scowls and jeers when she talked to him. He was when she chased him. Now his expression is softer. He looks tired. 

“Wouldn’t have if I wasn’t looking for  _ you _ .” 

“Wouldn’t have either if your piece of crap ship hadn’t thrown a rod.” 

“I cannot believe what I am hearing I really cannot-” Moaning about her ship isn’t going to do much good. “Anyway, I wanna know everything you know about the Kerberos attack.” 

Keith rolls his eyes as if he’s been asked this question a thousand times. “Is that martian chocolate?” He asks gesturing to one of the pantry shelves. They could be destitute, but they’d still have some chocolate stashed away. She and Lance were addicted. 

“Yeah.” 

“Gimme, and I’ll spill.” 

“Do you think I’m that stupid?” she says with a huff.” 

“Seriously. I’ve been so far out of the Earth’s solar system for so long. It’s been years since I’ve had chocolate.” His eyes are wide now, like they’re on the cusp of brimming with excitement and crying. “I’ve got something you might wanna know if you do.” 

“Kay.” Without another word she unwraps a chocolate bar, and breaks off a piece. “Open,” she points at his mouth. There’s no way she’s uncuffing him. He opens his mouth and she places a small piece on his tongue, then another upon his request. “Now spill.” 

“This is gonna be worth way more than chocolate let me tell you. It’s in my pocket” 

Her face twists into one of unbridled disgust. She’s dealt with male perps being douchers before, but didn’t expect it from him. 

“My shirt pocket jackass.” 

  
  


She pulls a small USB stick from his pocket. Immediately she plugs it into her watch. The projects hundreds of lines of code into the air above her wrist. “No way.” How in the universe did he get this? How recent? A quick scan reveals that the last edit by the originator of the code was...Four months ago. That’s four months more recent than anything else she’s got. 

The code was in a script invented by her father. Hell, she’s pretty sure only her, and dad and Matt are fluent enough in it.

“How did you get this?” 

“Something I came upon while looking for the black paladin. And you, your online presence is about as discreet as an approaching Galra fleet. It wasn’t hard to tie any of it back to you. Just so happened to come in handy, since you won’t leave me alone.” 

She’d heard of the black paladin. A war story told by men who’d lost hope. Allegedly there was a guy in a black robotic lion who was absolutely destroying Galra bases. She might’ve almost believed those tall tales told by shell shocked soldiers in bars. Lance did jet around in a robotic lion of undetermined origin and purpose instead of a typical cruiser. 

“So I gave you something big. You gotta let me like…” his eyes dart from her to the pantry door and then back to her. “Let me go.” 

“You ruined my ship.” 

“You ruined my mission! I had a lead on-” he cuts himself off before he divulges too much. “The chocolate too, since you’re somehow more insufferable than most bounty hunters.” 

“You’re increasing your demands...In cuffs?” Still...if he can get his hands on info like this without even trying, what could he do if he was focused?

 

God, Lance and Hunk were going to eject her out the airlock.

* * *

 

“Pigeon,  you’re gonna have to dress in drag for this one again.” Lance’s words echo in her ear. “I’d do it myself, but the aliens are getting hip. Most earth women aren’t 6’2 and have such a chiseled jaw line or Adam’s apple.” The memory of Lance “deep” undercover makes her cringe. 

 

Not to mention, it’s been four fucking years and he still doesn’t get it. 

 

“Guess you’ve got the stuffing part figured out then. Good.” He says after she emerges from the bathroom wearing his “under cover” garment of choice, hemmed of course for their astounding height difference. 

 

She really, really, really should say something. Something simple and off the cuff like, “not a dude,” or “this is why I’m uncomfortable when you drag me to the titty bar.” 

 

Now’s not the time though. 

 

Hunk found this  _ thing _ a few days ago out in Appalachia. Appalachia was what they called the garbage collection on the east end of the outerbelt.  It’s particularly great if you’re broke and need money quick. Scrap metal is always a hot commodity, especially if you can make it to a gas giant that doesn’t have any solid metals to speak of. 

 

It’s a red sword type...thing. It’s got similar designs to her blade, and runs off the same kind of unidentifiable energy. Her gut reaction is to keep it. The growling in her stomach, and Hunk’s rarely used, “do not test me,” face were enough to make her change her mind. 

 

After getting “knocked out” by Kogane again she’s on their shitlist for life. 

So now she finds herself seated at the bar of an upscale cocktail lounge somewhere outside of Cyprus-9 hoping that whomever the buyer is, he’s generous to pay for the three orders of Yak dumplings she’s just demolished. 

 

“What the fuck happened to your face?” A velvety smooth voice coos into her ear. 

 

With a start she turns and lo and be-fucking hold it’s Kogane. He’s purpler now, but there’s no mistaking that cocky grin and that shitty hair. 

 

“Perp got me with a switchblade,” she says as she pokes at the crude clear gray stitches in her forehead. It’s breaking character, but who cares? So did pounding three appetizers while in an emerald sequin evening dress that cost more than her cruiser ship. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up around here.” Or anywhere for that matter. As far as she knew, the bounty still stood. 

 

“Called off on one side.” 

 

She can fill in the details. The galra side, hence the shift in appearance. So, the rumors were true. He was part Galra. Didn’t matter, he was still wanted by the Garison for espionage, treason, and the attempted murder of four officers.

 

“Let me guess,” her voice slips into the buttery femme voice she’d spent hours practicing. When she assumed that when the buyer requested a female contact person, it was so he could rob her blind or be a pig or both. She wasn’t exactly expecting…”You’re my buyer.” 

 

“Correct.” 

 

She can feel the sweat pooling around the neckline of the dress, her palms, underneath her arms. She was hyper aware that the place was swimming with Galra when she walked in the door and took Lance’s mantra to heart, “ act like you own the place”. Still. That’s why Hunk and Lance were at a booth in the back nursing a single over priced cocktail. Perhaps it was naive, but she didn’t expect trouble for this job. 

 

“So you’re gonna buy me a drink,” and pick up the tab. “And then we’re gonna chat for awhile.” She leans in like they’re old friends having a laugh over a joke. “Then, you’ll hold my purse while I freshen up.” Let’s face it, that’s where the sword-thing is. 

 

“Something like that.” He says with a nod. 

 

Something like that. She blatantly enjoys the view of the back of her skull for a moment while she rolls her eyes. Those were the conditions laid out in the pre-meetup protocol. She’s on thin ice with her partners as it is, and this is gonna be the final blow. 

 

“Like what I gave you last time?” He says as he playfully leans into her space at the bar. 

“Woulda liked it better if I never saw you again,” she melts into the bar and tugs at the straw of her cocktail with overpainted lips. 

 

“Totally wanted to see you again,” he says as he rolls his eyes.

 

For a moment, she wonders if the view of the back of his skull is similar to his. Black and desolate, the back of her nearly empty skull. She also just wants to fire up the green thing and hope for the best. “You are lying through your teeth.” She leans into him to keep up the illusion. Whatever’s going down, he’s banking on his Galra cover. At this point so is she. She wants the money, she wants to give Lance and Hunk the lion’s share, and then she wants to buy some earth style ice cream in that order. 

 

“Not at all.” His hands are electric as they skirt up her side and then from her ear and down her jaw. “Wanna finish the job outside?” 

  
“Pidge, I know it’s hot right now, but do NOT complete the deal outside. It’s gonna look way shadier if we do it that way,” Hunk barks in her ear. 

* * *

She exhales the moment her feet hit the threshold leading her out of the bar. Moments after he picks up the tab and leads her outside of the bar with a gentle hand on her hip. 

“What the actual fuck is your problem,” she says in wheezing breaths as if she just ran a mile. In reality, it’s fear that pulls at her from both ends. How could she come this far only to fail so hard and end up caught as a Galra prisoner? She has no time for any of it. 

“Like I said,” he says with a smirk. “Wanted to see you again.” 

“Transfer me the money already,” she says with a huff. “I have several men who are about to put me out on my ass on account of you.” It’s only a half lie. Hunk and Lance are pissed because of the way she acts around Kogane. They’d never put her out. 

“If they put you out, you could always be my under study.” 

She rolls her eyes again and grinds her patent leather clad toes into the pavement. It’s going to scuff the shit out of these shoes. “Please.” 

“We’d make a good team.” 

Right, like some morally ambiguous bounty head hasn’t tried that line on her once or twice. 

He pulls a datapad from seemingly nowhere and punches in the 1.7 mil they’d negotiated beforehand and transfers it directly into her account. 

“Gimme.” The statement makes her jaw go slack and her eyes go wide. For a moment, she’s reminded that the command is made by the same purple eyed punk with a shiner who stole every ounce of chocolate off the ship. 

Nevertheless,  she forks over her purse and it’s contents without effort. 

“Kind of a shame it didn’t end with gunfire or a tranq dart isn’t it?” 

“For you maybe.” 

“You look nice in that dress. Nicer than your friend does.”

The whole conversation is giving her a rash, because just how the hell can one person be so nosy to know that it’s Lance’s special occasion and under cover dress? Where the hell is Hunk with the pickup? 

There’s a ship being called up to the curb on autopilot. It’s a vintage speeder, black with red pinstripes. A little too flashy for her tastes, but it will work. 

It’s now or never so she tries to channel her inner Lance and use his type of diversion. She leans into him and plants a kiss squarely on his mouth. It’s sloppy and unrefined, and he’s gonna have lipstick all over his face and it’s gonna be the least of his worries. While he’s flustered and sputtering, she slaps stasis cuffs on him and jumps into the open entry pod. 

“Thanks for the ship. This, combined with the 1.7 mil? Way more than you’re worth.” 

  
“You’re going to regret this,”  he says through gritted teeth.   


* * *

She didn’t think about how he kissed back. No sir, no way. The only thing on her mind was getting Hunk off her ass so she could demolish this entire pint of rocky road in peace. She didn’t think about how his lips were surprisingly soft, how he smelled like cinnamon, or that his galra peach fuzz tickled her lips. 

She definitely didn’t think about other ways she could’ve subdued him without causing a ruckus and attracting galra attention. She was wearing a special bracelet that was loaded with sedative. She could’ve just let him go. After all, it was pretty clear she wasn’t capturing him  _ there _ with so many witnesses. She was  _ stupid stupid stupid _ all because of a few thousand GAC and a page of half broken code. 

“Stealing his cruiser was dangerous, especially with all those Galra.” 

“If you’re gonna go off script like that, we need warning.”

“I got the money right?” She says as the spoon dangles limply from between her lips. 

“Pidge, it’s worthless if you get us all killed.” His face shifts from mega pissed to soft and vulnerable. “Just be careful okay? None of this is like you, and we’re worried.” 

  
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Under her breath she mumbles, “It’s a stolen cruiser anyway.”

* * *

“What the actual fuck?” She says as the tumbles out of the stolen ship and onto the bay of his larger cargo ship. 

“You wouldn’t answer my calls.” He’s back to full human Keith. No purple, no fur, no wide pupil-less eyes that are hypnotic without meaning to be. He’s wearing an expression that’s supposed to be a playful grin, but his cockiness won’t let him so it comes off as a hybrid smirk sneer smile that will surely give her nightmares to come. “I wanted to have a celebratory drink with you.” 

“Why?” Pidge cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve already shot me, stole my ship, nearly sent me to the poor house, emotionally compromised me, and built up my hopes only to give me a dead end on finding my dad and my brother. You go back to Earth and shoot my mom and my dog too?” She’s tired. So fucking tired of dealing with this bullshit. If he wants the ship back, he can drop her off at the nearest outpost and beg Hunk and Lance to come get her. She just wants to be done. 

“That’s really harsh, even from you Pidge.” He says, and there’s something akin to genuine hurt in his expression. It’s gross. “I wanted to celebrate the Garrison bounty being called off.” 

Her jaw goes slack. “How?”  His rap sheet clearly indicated he was into some double agent bullshit, and it rarely worked out in his favor...But cleared? Completely? 

“The little toy you sold me helped.”

For whatever reason the blood in her veins goes cold. The whole damn universe was at war. People died all the damn time. She knows that he didn’t just sell the sword or something. He killed someone. Killed again, and it bothers her in ways that logically it shouldn’t. For a moment she thinks about scrambling back into the ship, but what good would that do? The rest of the hangar is bare. Nothing here she can steal. 

“Look, will you calm down. I’m not gonna kill you with it.” 

“That isn’t helping,” her voice cracks as she chokes out the words. Immediately, she draws her blade. 

“Oh, good. You brought it with you,” he notes dryly. “I wanna test something. Follow me.” 

She aced her entry exams. She completed a Master’s degree in computer science by the time she was 19. She had every mathematical institution begging her to come for a Ph.D. by the time she graduated from the Garrison at 20. 

None of it meant that Pidge was a smart person. She couldn’t make toast to save her life. She had to have Lance run the garbage disposal or risk needing stitches. For this reason, she wordlessly followed Keith into  _ another _ hangar onto the ship.

When she rounded the corner her mouth went dry. She thought she’d seen it all when Lance came back to the ship after a night of drinking with a giant blue lion that ran on fucking crystals. She never expected to see a green one. 

“Look.” He grabs her up by the wrist. “I brought her to you.” Then he shoves her toward the lion. “Are you happy now? Will you tell me where the red one is so I can use this?” He drops her wrist and starts waving around the red sword. “Will you tell me where Shiro is?” His speech is elongated and exaggerated. He sounds so stupid. Pidge would stifle a giggle if she wasn’t so weirded out. 

“Keith, do you mind telling me what’s going on?” 

“Mighta stole this when I was last on a Galra compound. And it’s like asking for you.” 

“Asking for me? We’ve never met!” She spits back incredulously. “It can talk?” 

“Not by name, by feel. Ugh. I can’t explain it.” 

  
So before she knows it, he’s leading her through a maze of ship parts and musty boxes by the wrist and up to the lion. “C’mon, I’ll show you. Get in the cockpit.”    


* * *

“Oh,” Pidge murmurs as she sinks down into the seat of the cockpit. “I see what you mean.” All in her ears and in the pounding of her heart, and deep down in her gut, a voiceless yet omnipresent voice echos “Katie,” over and over again. “Let’s take him.” 

“Where?” 

“To the black paladin.” 

For a moment she ignores the lion’s request. Focuses instead on the green cockpit lights and the strange symbols that are begging to be analyzed by her translation software. “Why?” she says out loud. 

Keith opens his mouth as if to speak and she quickly shushes him. “He is partial to you.” So what? She’s partial to steak made from wagyu from the pathos system, but it costs more than what she makes in a year, so she doesn’t get it. “It will be beneficial to you.” 

“How?” 

“When, what,” Keith mumbles under his breath. 

  
An image of Dad and Matt are embedded into her consciousness. She wants to believe so badly that it’s just her own subconscious. Or that he’s drugged her again and this is one shitty hallucination. “We’re gonna have to wait on that drink loverboy,” she says in a monotone voice as her hands slide over the throttle and let them rev. “Open the hangar. We’re going for a ride.” 

* * *

Here’s the thing about myths. They’re just that. Fiction that is just plausible enough. People make shit up and it sticks, and then it becomes an uncomfortable reality. Here’s the thing about reality, it’s rarely as concise as fiction. 

She’s heard a lot of stories about the black paladin. He’s ten feet tall. He can wring the neck of the mightiest Galra warrior. He’s tangled with Zarkon himself. She knew a lot of it had to be fiction, but she never expected the black paladin to be real, let alone  _ this. _

Legends weren’t 6’2” men who startled easily. Legends weren’t men with dirty, unkept birds’ nest beards. They weren’t the pilot on Dad and Matt’s ship either. “Shiro?” the word rolls off their tongues in unison. 

Shiro gives him a friendly hug after getting over his initial shock. Pidge notices how Keith’s eyes go glassy, and his face slightly red. Finally two tiny teardrops well up in the corners of his eyes and she wished she didn’t see. Keith was a thorn in her side and nothing more. Not a man with heart that could be broken and stitched back together in a moment’s notice.

Here’s the other thing about legends. They focus on the hero and not on the sidekicks. Pidge screams when she sees him, and punches Keith in the gut out of pure shock. 

It’s shock. Nothing but shock. She would’ve punched anyone who was standing next to her. Coincidence, for sure.

Next thing she knows she’s the one turning red and fighting back tears, and suddenly that bastard Keith is the best thing that ever happened to her, because some how, some way, Matt is standing right in front of her. 

And then, Matt is doing what Matt does best. Explaining.

Like Keith, Shiro and Matt are wanted by both sides. Thing is, neither Garrison nor Galra want anybody to know about the lion, or the fact that the three of them are doing their best to liberate planets on both sides. They don’t put public bounties out for them. 

The info causes an ugly sour feeling to well up in her gut. She always considered the Garrison to be the lesser of two evils. Had no idea that they were engaging in equally unscrupulous quintessence mining practices too. 

She forces the feeling down, because she hasn’t seen them in years. She’s going to enjoy this because the universe is cruel. Their presence is a liability, and they’re probably going to have to part ways. 

“It’s good that you're here,” Shiro says after awhile, disconfirming her anxiety, if not but for a moment. “Black’s been asking for you Keith.” 

“Weird,” Keith says sprawled out on the glimmering opal sand that covers the planet. Each piece reflects the full spectrum of light, and Pidge wants to bottle it up and take some with her. 

“Why?” Pidge can feel him tense up next to her...When did he get so close? Oh yeah, she leaned over him to get into Shiro’s rucksack for some snacks and never scooted back. It’s her fault. She’s still wearing her short sleeved tunic and shorts, and the campfire just isn’t cutting the cold. It’s really his fault for being warm in the first place. 

“It says that you’re red.” 

“Red? The fuck does that mean?” 

It’s Pidge’s turn to tense up against him. “Keith!” 

“What Pidge jeeze? I’m trying to think here,” he huffs.

“The sword!” She’d been able to jam her blade into the green lion’s interface and use it like a key. It was super cool. “ Another lion. We can go get it,” the words tumble out before she can think about what they mean. Getting it means leaving Matt, and spending more time with Keith. Both of those things sound extremely unpleasant. 

“Makes sense I guess.” He relaxes a bit. “Makes me less angry that it wants you and not me,” he says gesturing to the green lion.  

“I wonder how many more there are,” Shiro asks. 

“My partner has one. Blue.” 

  
“So many questions,” Matt flops backwards onto the sand. “So little data.”

* * *

 

They leave Shiro and Matt two days after they arrive. It’s bittersweet, but at least she knows he’s safe. It feels like she’s had an immense weight lifted off her shoulders. He’s already said they can talk from time to time, if they use proper encryption. It’s not enough, but it will keep her from going crazy. 

 

The black lion tells them to head 5.7 lightyears towards Vesuvius. She hopes the green lion is fireproof. 

 

“I should’ve just gone on the date with you,” Pidge sighs into her hand as they take off. It’s going to be a long trip, even with hyperspace. “Would’ve been so much easier than spending days on end with you.” 

 

He’s not in the best mood either, so she ribs him playfully in the side to let him know that she doesn’t mean it. It’s hard to think about the money, or her pride, even the tranquilizer dart doesn’t matter  _ as _ much at this point. He’s inadvertently given her so much, and he’ll never truly understand. 

 

He doesn’t say anything in response for a very, very long time. Finally, “What are you going to do after this? After we get the red lion?” He sounds afraid. It’s jarring because he’s never sounded that way before, no matter how high the stakes were. Not when he was cuffed, or she was shooting at him, or when they left Shiro and Matt. “Go back to being a bounty hunter?” 

 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to give up everything and try to overthrow two intergalactic governments you know?” 

 

“Hm,” he says as he leans up against the console and stares out the cockpit. She can’t look at the cameras when they’re in hyperspace. The sight of millions of stars shooting past makes her want to barf. “Don’t know if I’m ready to drop everything either.” 

 

She snorts. “You’re like one step away from what Shiro’s doing. Both sides already hate you, and probably want you dead.” 

 

It goes quiet again between them. Keith looks like a puppy that’s been kicked. It’s gross, and he needs to stop it immediately before she actually does barf in the cockpit. This literally cannot be the first time most of the universe has wanted him dead. 

 

Wordlessly, she takes her hand into his. She doesn’t have any answers. Never been good at that. She wrote 13 versions of her thesis proposal and generated over 140 separate hypothesis before deciding on a set direction.  

 

She raises his hand to her mouth and thinks about kissing it. He’s warm, and he’s the antithesis of charming in a way that’s charming. “You always land on your feet though.”   She talks against it instead so that the sentimental mush that flows out of her mouth is muffled. 

 

“Now,” she says as she revs the lion’s controls. “Let’s go get us another.” 

 

“Then what?” 

  
“We’re going to the seediest bars in the galaxy, and you’re getting me bounties.”

* * *

 

 


End file.
